


Conflict of Interest

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: Two sets of Hawke twins make it to Kirkwall, but, unfortunately, the siblings are diametrically opposed and refuse to cooperate or find common ground outside of their mother. And then Kirkwall goes to shit.---Goes through Act 3. Written for the kinkmeme prompt here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My husband and I got kicked out of our apartment for a week while I was writing this. (Broken AC and severe water damage; it wasn't pretty) which contributed to this actually getting finished. Husband also helped write this.
> 
> He was very upset that I didn't just have two purple Hawkes.

“We are  _ not _ working for smugglers,” Garrett spat at his twin. “We didn’t escape the Blight to become criminals.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the metal plates of his armor clanking loudly.

Marian scanned the area and then leaned forward, snarling under her breath. “If I wanted to be some chained attack dog, I would have gone to the Circle. You’re sinking so low, you can’t even be called a mabari, Garrett. You want just to be mongrel hounds.” She backed up and raised her chin. Over her shoulder, the sharp blade of her staff caught the light. The blade was a wicked, curved thing and the length of the staff was reinforced with onyx and braided leather.

Unlike her older sister, Bethany’s staff was painfully obviously a mage weapon under the towering statues and glaring eyes of the templars who made their home in the Gallows. Bethany shifted to stand behind Garrett. “I trust Garrett. If he thinks this is the right thing to do, we should join the Red Iron.”

“Of  _ course _ you trust Garrett! Everyone always trusts bloody Garrett,” Carver snapped. He stood at Marian’s shoulder, his greatsword slung over his back at the same angle as his sister’s disguised staff. “Marian’s right. With Athenril we’ll at least have enough information about her operations that she’ll think twice before selling us out to the templars.”

“There’s no honor among  _ thieves _ , Carver,” Bethany snapped at her twin.

“Which is why we’re relying on  _ blackmail _ and not  _ honor _ . I’m trying to keep  _ you _ safe, Bethany. The least you could do is show some appreciation - if that’s even possible for someone who’s not bloody Garrett.”

“That’s  _ enough _ ,” Garrett shouted. “Mother’s on her way back.”

“Look, Gamlen was at least smart enough not to give Athenril or Meeran any specifics about who’s what. You two want to collar yourselves? Fine. Take Aveline, have the Red Iron pay your bribes. She would’ve bitched about Athenril anyway. We’ll get Mother into the city.”

Silence fell over the group after Marian’s assertion, both sets of twins glaring daggers at each other.

“There you all are. I hope you’re not fighting,” Leandra said. She touched Garrett’s arm lightly.

“Of course not, Mother. We’ve decided we’re better off not trusting either one of Uncle’s contacts.” Garrett said, his tone light and an easy smile dropping on his face. 

The smile on Marian’s face was obviously forced, but she tried. “We’ll split up, get out of the Gallows and meet up at Uncle’s place in Lowtown.”

 

\---

  
  


_ One year later… _

“Mari… Can we… take a break? Sit down?” Carver barely got the words out between wheezing gasps. It was early evening, not that the dusk could be seen in Darktown. A colicky baby wailed in the distance and dirty children in clothes that were more patches than fabric watched with eager eyes as the siblings staggered through the muck that passed for a road.

“You wanna see the Void, Carver? Because that’s what’ll happen if we stop. You’ve got an arrow in your lung, in case you forgot.” Though her presence usually made their height gap seem insignificant, Marian looked tiny with her younger brother slung over her shoulders. “Chin up, brother. There’s the lantern.”

Just as they approached, the half-rotted door opened and a spindly, blond man in a ragged coat came out and reached for the lantern.

“No, no, no…” Marian said, dragging Carver as fast as she could. “Please, messere. My brother’s dying.”

The man turned, his sunken eyes barely visible under the fringe of his hair. He looked Carver over and sighed with his entire body, looking a feather’s weight away from collapsing himself. He put out the lantern, but held the door open. “Bring him in.”

Marian lowered Carver as best she could to the nearest cot. “This is Carver.” She eased off her brother’s breastplate and put her hands on either side of the broken arrow shaft that still pierced his chest. “I’m Hawke.”

The man approached, his hands already glowing a soft blue with magic. “I’m Anders.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Carver said. He coughed winced with his entire body from the pain. There was blood on his lips.

Once the healer had his hands over the wound, Marian cut the rest of the armor off her brother, ripping open the threadbare undershirt beneath to give Anders a clear view of his work. That done, she pulled two potions out of her pouch and held them up to him.

Anders blinked and looked between the potions and her for a moment. “Rejuvenation and… just how pure is this lyrium?”

“Pure enough that if you weren’t here I was going to take my chances and brute force it.” A lick of flame spit across the blade of her staff.

“...I see.” Anders swallowed each potion with a single gulp. He pulled a thick scrap of leather out of his robes and held it up to Carver’s mouth. “Bite this. I need to get the arrow out.”

Marian squeezed her brother’s shoulder and then disappeared from the clinic as Anders healed. An hour later, she reappeared with a heavy satchel over one shoulder and Carver’s greatsword slung up next to staff.

Anders was slumped in a rickety chair next to Carver’s cot, half-slurring instructions for caring for the wound. He didn’t even look up as Marian approached. She dug through the satchel and held out a skein of heavily watered down wine. When Anders lifted it up to Carver, she grabbed his wrist. “That’s for you. Look at him: he’s fine now that he’s not sprouting arrows.”

“It was  _ one _ arrow. And it was the Carta. They’re too short. I couldn’t see him."

Anders mumbled what might have been a protest, but took a long pull regardless. Before he’d even lowered it from his lips, Marian shoved a warm meat pie into his free hand. “Eat. All of it. I brought more for tomorrow. Lirene said you were overworked, not that you were half-dead and starved.”

“I’m fine,” Anders mumbled around a mouthful of pie.

“That’s not how this is going to work, Anders.” Marian didn’t wait for a response, she just picked him up out of the chair and deposited him on the next cot. “Don’t argue. I have three younger siblings. You won’t win.”

“She’s right,” Carver slurred, half asleep.

 

\---

 

“This place  _ stinks _ of blood magic, Garrett. Are you  _ sure _ we’ll be alright?”

“Don’t worry, Bethany. My friends in the guard have been watching this mansion all week. Between us and your brother’s new friend, we’ll be fine,” Aveline said. She and Garrett both had thin cloth covering the reflective plate of their armor as they waited in the thin alley near the mansion in question.

“Danarius and his men will be no match for us.” Fenris melted out of a shadow, his lyrium brands glowing faintly with a combination of moonlight and their own power. “Let us waste no more time.”

Garrett nodded at the elf and then moved forward at a quick march, Aveline at his shoulder, both of their shields raised. The group made quick work of the mansion’s few living inhabitants and much more numerous spectral ones. Bethany took great care to cast no magic on Fenris, leaving her barriers over her brother and Aveline.

When the magister failed to appear Fenris snarled, though he restrained himself after a moment and sighed. “Of course. It could never be so easy.”

“Fenris…” Bethany started, hesitant. “You’re bleeding. Would you let me… heal you?”

Fenris eyed the woman for a moment, his frown deepening. “No.”

Bethany sighed and shoved a poultice and some bandages into her brother’s hands before gesturing to the elf. “Take those, at least. Please.”

Fenris didn’t reply to that, though he accepted the items gingerly, as if they would burn him. “Though Danarius is not here, he undoubtedly left valuables behind. You are welcome to them, as we discussed. I… need some air.”

Garrett turned to her sister. “Why don’t you and Aveline scour the place. I’ll go see to… our friend here.” Once the women nodded at him, he jogged through the building, his armor clanking up a racket despite the fabric positioned between the plates to avoid just that. He found Fenris leaning against one of the crenellated pillars in the front.

“I escaped the Imperium’s dark magics only to arrive  _ here _ where magic’s corruption pollutes the very air.”

“Something, something, the Veil is very thin here.” Garrett smirked. He leaned against a different column and took a deep breath of Hightown’s relatively clear air. “But in all seriousness… If Danarius comes back while you’re still here, just let one of us know. We’ll help you.”

Fenris gave him a measuring look. “Your sister is a mage. No matter how sweet she pretends to be, one day, she will turn on you.”

Garrett held out his right hand and and cast a templar’s Silence. Some of Fenris’s lyrium brands responded with a flash of light. “I’m prepared for if that day comes. Until then, I plan to take advantage of what’s left of my sister underneath the mage.”

“I apologize. I am certain I seem ungrateful, which isn’t the case. I am pleased to know you are vigilant - for your own sake and your sister’s. I will not forget your offer. If you find yourself in need of another sword, you have only to ask.”

 

\---

 

“Hold,  _ shemlen _ . Your kind are not welcome among the people.”

Marian raised her eyebrows. “Well we’ll just trot right back off to Kirkwall then, won’t we?

“Marian,” Garrett said, the warning clear in his voice. He cleared his throat, sparing Carver a glare when the younger man looked about to open his own mouth. “I apologize for my sister. We’re just here to see your Keeper. I believe her name is Marethari.”

The two sentries exchanged a look before turning back to the Hawkes. “The Keeper has been expecting you. We just… weren’t expecting you to be human.”

Marian opened her mouth out of a severe lack of self-preservation, but Garrett clapped his hand over her face before she could get it out. “Don’t worry about it. It was an understandable mistake.”

“Keeper Marethari waits within… But do not think to cause trouble.”

The four of them walked through the camp. Marian and Carver both wore black with only hints and accents of a sharp red. Carver’s plate armor had matte, black paint to block reflections. Marian’s staff was now more blade than staff. Garrett and Bethany wore red with detailed white designs - a slight variation of the Amell family crest.

Marian kept her arms crossed over her chest and Carver stayed at her side, the two of them muttering to each other. Mostly about the jobs they had lined up, but insults whenever Garrett or Bethany looked over with one of their pointed glares.

Garrett sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. They’d been at each others’ throats since their father died, but the gap between them had shifted into a chasm in the past year. He pulled the amulet out of his chestpiece as they approached the Keeper. When the old woman looked up, Garrett held it out. “Keeper Marethari? We were told to bring you this amulet.”

“I am the Keeper.” She took the amulet and stepped up to them. The elf examined each of them in turn. “The bonds between you are strong, but you’re letting them crumble. You must remember what holds you together. But that is not why you are here. Tell me how this burden fell to you.”

“We were helped trying to escape the Blight in Ferelden. In exchange for that help, we were asked to bring this to you and follow your instructions regarding it,” Garrett said. Though he didn’t fear these Dalish, he had no interest in giving them knowledge they didn’t already have.

“I see. You are bound to Ashabellanar, as I am.”

“Just what have we been carrying?” Marian asked, her eyes were narrowed, but she managed to keep her tone polite.

“You will see. I pray that Mythal will watch over you. You must take the amulet to the top of the mountain; there is an altar there.” She held out the amulet. “My First will accompany you and perform a ritual there. Return the amulet to me and… Then you must take her with you when you go.”

“Your… First?” Bethany asked.

“She means her apprentice,” Carver answered. When his siblings looked at him with shock and surprise, he snapped, “What? You three aren’t the only ones allowed to know things.”

“He is right. Merrill was my apprentice, but she has chosen a path. Please, she’s waiting for you at the edge of the camp.”

They met up with the slight elven girl at the edge of the camp. She was cheery and spirited and started easily chatting with Bethany. Marian and Garrett shared a small smile for the first time in months and climbed up the mountain with little other chatter outside of Merrill’s rambling.

Aside from a handful of reanimated corpses, they had no trouble reaching the summit. Or close to it. A magical barrier blocked the way. Marian stepped up to it and held her hand just a hair’s width away. “It’s strong.” She looked over her shoulder. “Can you do a proper Silence, or..?”

Garrett scoffed at his twin. “No, sorry, I haven’t gotten myself addicted to lyrium, thank you very much.”

“It’s okay. I can get us through.” Merrill stepped up next to Marian and without hesitation sliced open the back of her arm. There was a brilliant hum of magic and then the barrier faded.

“You’re a blood mage!” Bethany shouted.

“Bethany-”

“Marian! You can’t seriously be defend-”

“Is she possessed by a demon? Are any of us? Is she controlling us? Going against our wills? No? Then keep your Chantry propaganda in your head.”

“Carver, restrain her,” Garrett growled. He held out his hand and hit her with the most powerful Silence he could manage. Carver didn’t move to follow the instruction, but he eyed his older sister warily.

“Get off your high horse, Garrett. I wouldn’t dishonor Father by making a deal with a demon, but I’m not going to enforce Chantry law like some blind, ignorant sheep. Blood magic is dangerous, yes, but how much of that is because we’re never taught how to use it and simply have to trust whatever the demons whisper us at night.” Marian held her ground, though she felt her head spinning from the Silence.

“Have you lost your mind, Marian? Did you really change so much in just a year?” Bethany had tears in her eyes and she brought up both hands to cover her mouth.

Merrill stepped forward. “I know what I’m doing. It is dangerous, yes, but so is a sword. The spirit let us through, didn’t it?”

“I swear on our Father’s grave that I won’t turn to blood magic, but you can’t expect me to hate someone else for it.” Marian drew her staff and planted the blade in the ground so she could lean on it for support. Carver finally approached her, but he put an arm around her shoulders instead of holding her still for their brother’s tender mercies.

“If you want to leave, then go. We’ll fulfill the witch’s bargain. I don’t agree with blood magic, either. If Merrill does something evil, we’ll handle it.”

“I can’t believe you two!”

“The feeling’s mutual. Believe  _ that _ .”

 

\---

 

“You’re not just making an excuse to buy me dinner, are you?” Anders asked as they approached the Hanged Man.

“Not with my  _ brother _ here. Honestly, Anders.” Marian laughed and smiled at the healer.

Carver made gagging noises. “Yes, exactly. I am  _ right here _ .” He pushed past them and held the door open so they would stop flirting and just get inside already. “And hurry up. I know Garrett’s been sniffing around this job, too.”

“Of course he is. He always tried to steal my ideas.” Marian mimed flipping her hair over her shoulder, though in it’s close crop actually doing it was impossible. (But the action got a smile from Anders, so it was a success, all told.) She lead him down the dingy hallway and up into Varric’s suite.

“Starling, Junior! You made it.” Varric sat behind his desk, a thick ledger in front of him and scraps of paper cluttering up the rest of the desk and hiding his inkwell. “I take it this is the Darktown Healer?”

“Anders.” He held out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet. I’m Varric Tethras, part of the Merchant’s Guild here in Kirkwall. Please, have a seat.” He gestured widely.

The three of them settled into the open chairs with a minimal amount of knocking things with their long weapons. “As Starling told you-”

“She didn’t tell me anything, actually.”

“Well, then. My brother and I are leading an expedition into the Deep Roads.”

Anders stood and moved towards the door. “No, thank you.”

Marian dropped a repulsion spell on the door and Anders bounced back a step. “At  _ least _ hear him out.”

“I  _ hate _ the Deep Roads.”

“I’m not asking you to come-”

“Well,  _ I _ , am.”

“I was just wondering if you happened to know where the Deep Roads entrances are around here.” Varric gave him a winning smile.

With a frown, Anders slid back into the chair, but his posture remained stiff. “I  _ may _ be able to help with that.”

“Good. Starling and Vigilance are contributing partner-level investment to our little party, so now that the possibility of this actually getting off the ground before the next Blight is there, I want to be sure we can actually get down there.” Varric kept his eyes on his guests, but shuffled his papers into neat, if random, stacks.

“Vigilance?”

“He means Garrett,” Carver replied. “And Bethany and I are contributing, too, you know.”

“Bartrand only agreed to two extra cuts and I had to wrestle him just for that. Stop complaining, Junior.” 

“You’ve been in the Deep Roads. Your experience could mean the difference between life and death for us.” Marian’s voice was low and sincere, though not quite pleading. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from actually pleading.

Anders ran a hand over his hair. “I have no intention of going back into the Deep Roads. I do, however, have a map of the entrances in this area. I… Could use some help with something, myself. If you went along, that could go a good way towards convincing me to join you.”

 

\---

 

“That’s… Not the reaction I was expecting.” Anders watched non-plussed as Marian paced back and forth across the mostly-empty clinic. He kept his white-knuckled grip on his staff, but some small amount of tension had bled off.

“I think she’s just deciding how furiously Father is rolling in his grave.” Carver had his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Give me a break, Carver.” Marian didn’t break stride, just kept pacing and scrubbing at her short hair.

“I’m not going to go run back and throw my lot in with Garrett. We’ve already got our lot thrown in with one blood mage.”

“A  _ blood mage _ ? I’m not a blood mage!”

“You’re an abomination. I don’t think you get to judge.” Tiny motes of fire started trailing behind Marian like moths drawn to a lantern.

“I didn’t make a pact with a  _ demon _ .”

“Demons are just spirits whose purpose has been corrupted.” Marian spun on the spot and stalked to stand next to her brother. “Wisdom to pride. Love to desire. Honor to rage…”

“Justice to vengeance,” Carver said, his voice hard as stone as he stared at Anders. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? That your anger changed it? Made it a force of vengeance?”

Anders cursed under his breath.

“Are you really  _ just now _ realizing this?”

“He was in a rotting corpse! Roland was about to kill me! I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to sit down and do research.”

Marian rubbed her temples. “We’ll be back in a few days for the maps.” She threw a small bag of coin at him. “Try to spend some of it on food this time, Anders. Come on, Carver.”

They were halfway back to the shack in Lowtown when Carver asked, “We’re not just going to leave him as he is, are we?”

“Of course not. I’ve been grilling Merrill ever since we got back to Kirkwall. She and Keeper Marethari  _ might _ know how to send a willing spirit back to the Fade.”

“And if he’s not willing?”

“Copious amounts of fire is still a good way to get rid of an abomination.”

 

\---

 

“You were right, Fenris. We should have just let those Lowtown thugs kill her.” Bethany held her hands clenched into fists at her side as they left the Chantry. “Oooh, I wish Marian were here. She would have dealt with that self-righteous, lying, scheming, underhanded-”

Garrett rubbed the stiff line between her shoulders. “We’re much better off she  _ wasn’t _ here. She would have assaulted a sister in the Chantry. And Petrice was ready for it: there were at least five templars lurking around, just waiting for an excuse.”

“Oh, that insufferable… bitch!” Bethany sucked in a few deep breaths after the shouted curse and Garrett had to work very hard not to laugh.

Fenris, who was examining a broken strap on his gauntlet to avoid looking pleased that a  _ mage _ had said he’d been right, said, “Perhaps next time we let nature take its course.”

 

\---

 

Marian slashed her staff-blade in a fiery arc that cut across the thug’s chest. Next to her, Carver slung his greatsword around at two others and expertly dodged both his Anders and his sister’s fire spells. A delightful laugh escaped Marian as they cut through the seemingly endless hired swords. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Sister, but tell me again why we’re helping this woman?” Carver grumbled as a knife sliced through his armor and cut his upper arm. A soft blue glow of healing magic cleared it up before he could  _ really _ start complaining, though.

At the same time, all three of the others spoke.

“Because I’m  _ delightful. _ And not wearing any pants.”

“We need some less-magical help.”

“I think I slept with her once.”

Carver stopped what he was doing, looked over his shoulder to where Anders was standing just too close… And then threw back his arm, elbowing the other man in the face. He ignored the loud crunch and continued fighting.

 

\---

 

“Oh my goodness!” Leandra gasped and squeezed Bethany’s arm as they entered the Chantry. The back two rows of pews were missing entirely and the closest remaining one was slightly charred. The floor was a mess of hastily swept ash and fresh marks of metal on stone.

Bethany put a hand over her mouth as she stared. “What  _ happened _ ?” She looked over her shoulder when she heard a tired sigh. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the handsome Chantry Brother. His blue eyes were striking, even in the dim light in the Chantry.

“It seems there was some kind of illicit activity here last night. It didn’t go well. We only barely managed to clean up the… Well, clean up before the morning service.” He smiled and offered his arm. “But it is no matter. I am Brother Sebastian. Let me escort you to a seat.”

  
  
  


\---

 

“How could you  _ do _ that?” Anders shouted at Marian. The sun was setting on the Wounded Coast. Merrill and Carver stood a ways away, Merrill rambling and Carver blushing and rubbing the back of his neck. “You turned them into the templars! The Gallows is a  _ prison _ .”

“I am  _ aware _ of that, Anders. And I would have killed that  _ Grace _ woman if I didn’t think she’d start cutting throats to fight back.” Marian stood tall with her chin raised, unwilling to back down, even to him.

“I thought you wanted to save mages.” Anders tries to take her hands, tries to plead with her, as if it could take back what happened.

“Decimus wasn’t the only blood mage.”

“Are you Meredith now? Seeing blood magic under every stone?” He jerked his hand and pointed to Merrill. “There’s a blood mage right there that you do nothing about.”

“Maybe Justice has made you  _ blind _ to the fact that other humans have emotions and it’s not all about bloody  _ you _ , Anders. That woman was in love with Decimus. She accepted his blood magic. And they were from a  _ Circle _ , Anders. The only blood magic they know is evil and they took that and accepted it.”

“Oh, and Merrill is better because she  _ thinks _ she’s doing the right thing?”

“And you’re so much bloody better because Justice is a  _ spirit _ and not a  _ demon _ .” She grabbed the front of his coat. “The templars are wrong. The mages are wrong. The Chantry is wrong. You and I don’t get to decide what is right. All I get to decide is whom I trust and I am  _ not _ going to trust someone who willing walked the path of evil.”

“I… I guess I can understand that. I don’t think you’re  _ right _ , but… I respect you.”

 

\---

 

“Alright. Vigilance. Starling. No fighting in my office.” Varric eyed the siblings warily and then lifted his gaze to their younger siblings. Fire trickled over the blade of Marian’s staff, but after a moment, Bethany blew out a dramatic breath and ice crackled over the blade. Bethany giggled and Carver playfully shoved her.

“We  _ have _ managed to get this far without killing each other,” Garrett said, his hands folded in his lap.

Marian slouched in her chair and the ice fell off her staff blade, shifting into a thin mist of steam before it hit the floor. “Honestly, Varric. We’re professionals, if nothing else.”

Varric continued to stare for another moment before sighing. “Fine. Starling and her people are coming with us into the Deep Roads. Vigilance has contacts in the guard; which we may need if everything goes pear-shaped. He’ll try to meet us in the Deep Roads if we’re not back on schedule.”

“...Are you expecting it to go tits up?” Carver asked.

“You don’t keep your head in the Merchant’s Guild if you don’t have a finely tuned sense of danger. Look at it this way: I’m protecting  _ your _ investment.”

“Mother is never going to forgive you for taking Carver into the Deep Roads,” Garrett said. His face was lined with honest anxiety. “Not to mention taking  _ yourself _ .”

“Carver is a man and can make his own decisions about the Deep Roads, firstly. Second, as far as  _ you’re _ concerned, Father’s already posthumously disowned me, so I don’t see how this is going to be any worse.” Marian crossed her arms over her chest and with her spiky hair and sharp armor, she looked as if she was bristling.

“I don’t care about the Dalish girl. I care about my  _ sister _ .”

Marian stood violently, her chair knocking over with a clatter. “Then it’s a good thing Varric has you slotted to run in and play hero like you  _ always _ do. We’ll see you in two days, Varric. Let’s go, Carver.” She spun on her heel and left without another word.

Carver hugged Bethany tightly. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us. That Grey Warden is coming with us and he’s a proper Spirit Healer. It’ll be fine.” They pressed their foreheads together and then Carver followed out behind his sister.

 

\---

 

With the proceeds from the Deep Roads expedition, Garrett and Bethany were able to move their mother back into the Hightown estate. Aside from frequent, and somewhat pathetic, complaints from the de Launcets, Kirkwall’s nobility was happy to embrace the remnants of the Amell family.

Against Leandra’s fierce protests, Marian and Carver stayed in Lowtown. With their share, the siblings bought out a building on the nicer fringes and renovated it for their use. While the exterior remained on the verge of crumbling, the interior was just as comfortable as the Hightown estate with none of the pretension. The relative anonymity of the Lowtown house allowed them to move Merrill and a grudging Anders in.

Though Garrett and Marian remained on the most tenuous of speaking terms, for Leandra’s sake they had connected the estates through the tunnels that networked most of Kirkwall’s underbelly. (Marian only really agreed because those same tunnels let out near Anders’s clinic, but Bethany was the only one who could say as much without getting a black eye for their trouble.)

Merrill, as it happened, was just coming out of that tunnel. “Oh, Marian it was just awful. Some humans have really been bothering Arianni.”

Marian looked up from the ledger she was writing in. “Arianni? That’s, uh… Feynriel’s mother, right?”

“Yes. They keep asking her about Dalish artifacts. They were awfully mean.”

Marian sighed and set down her quill. “You see, Daisy, this is exactly why I had you move in.”

“I thought that was because Carver wanted to see me naked?” Merrill asked with wide-eyed innocence.

Carver, who’d just entered the room, choked and turned turned bright red. Before he could defend himself, Merrill continued. “I don’t know why you always react that way. It’s perfectly normal. I want to see you naked, too.”

Marian bent double, trying to hold back her uproarious laughter for her brother’s sake, but she was only minimally successful. At last, she gasped and straightened. “Yes. Right. But not now, Merrill. We’re meeting Varric for cards.”

Merrill looked down at herself, covered in mud to mid-thigh and frowned. “I imagine he’ll be upset if I track mud all over his suite again, won’t he?”

“We’ll wait for you to wash up.”

Merrill left and Marian turned her gaze back to her brother who seemed to be mostly returned to his normal coloring. Taking pity on him, she asked, “Is Bethany going to be there, tonight?”

“Yes,” Carver said. His expression immediately turned dark. “That Chantry Brother better not, though.”

“Sebastian? But I like him. So does Bethany.”

“That’s the problem,” he replied, voice dripping with acid. “Wait a second, you should be on  _ my _ side for this! She’s our baby sister!”

Marian waggled a finger. “Not so. I am primarily  _ not _ on Garrett’s side. Then I am on Bethany’s side and lastly is  _ you _ . So Sebastian wins my approval. Oh, don’t make that face, I still love you best.”

 

\---

 

“Arishok.” 

“Serah Amell.” 

The Qunari inclined his head, seeming a show of respect, but his black eyes remained instructable as they locked onto Garrett’s face. Garrett kept his expression carefully neutral, glad Fenris had known so much about Qunari customs and attitudes. They were a strange people, not stirred by what might be an insult in human culture, but insulted by a matter of course. 

Fenris greeted the Arishok in his own language, and the Qunari responded with surprise--but obvious pleasure. Garrett let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. It was going about as well as they might expect.

“I understand,” the Arishok said, abruptly switching back to the human tongue, “that a dwarf has made promises on my behalf.”

“Yes, Arishok. He stated that you had agreed to sell him  _ gaatlok _ ,” Garrett said. He raised a hand hastily as Qunari around him started to growl. “I did not believe him. But I thought to inform you as he spoke of designs on Qunari property.” 

_ And because the Viscount was worried about it getting out into Kirkwall _ . Not that the Qunari needed to know about that angle. Fenris had explained at length how they’d lose respect for Dumar if he hadn’t come himself. 

“I know this dwarf. He’s made a nuisance of himself. Begging us for the secrets of our  _ gaatlok _ . In his delusion he’s invented a bargain when none was struck.” The Arishok shook his head. “Your warning is heard and noted, Serah Amell. We will be on guard in case this dwarf’s madness carries him to foolish actions.”

“Thank you, Arishok.” Garrett nodded his head. “We’ll take our leave now.” 

“Yes. You will.”  

 

\---

 

Marian rubbed her eyes and then propped herself up on her elbow. “Anders? Where are you going?”

Across her bedroom, the other mage was buckling on his coat. The windows were shuttered, but during the day more than enough light would seep through and illuminate the room: something that definitely wasn’t happening at the moment. Slowly, Anders dropped his hands and turned to look at her. “Go back to sleep, Marian; it’s late.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She threw off the blanket and stood up. One hand moved to cover a yawn and the other reached out for his arm. “Come back to bed. You’re exhausted.”

“I… I have things to do at the clinic. Cleaning. Making more tinctures and poultices. You know. A healer’s work is never done.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out hollow and strained.

Marian pulled him away from the door and started unfastening his buckles. “Justice isn’t letting you sleep.”

“It’s not like that,” Anders protested, though he made no move to stop her. 

She pushed his coat off his shoulders and kicked it away once it hit the wooden floor. “I’d rather you just say nothing than lie to me like this, Anders.” A push later he was sitting on her bed, posture stiff and wooden. After another moment of inaction from him, she started on his boots. “The damage is already done when it comes to my opinion of your guest.”

“I don’t want you to worry.”

“I’m an older sister. I’m a  _ professional _ worrier.” After tossing his boots in the general direction of the door, she straightened and took his face in both hands. Marian planted a soft kiss on his lips. “If you work yourself to death there will be no Darktown healer to help the underground.”

Anders pressed his forehead against hers. “I know. It’s just… difficult.”

“Let me help you.”

“I’ll try.”

 

\---

 

Steel clashed against magic and bone as Fenris and Garrett swung their swords in strong arcs. Hadriana cackled taunts, but her voice was hysterical and sounded half-lost to madness already. The deep resonating thunks from Sebastian’s arrows was drowned out in the chaos.

Bethany stood tucked into the archer’s side, tossing gentle spells of healing and occasionally refreshing the repulsion glyph under her own feet as the animated skeletons threw themselves at her.  The old bones collapsed to the ground with clatter as Garrett finally beat through Hadriana’s shield and knocked the woman to the ground.

Bethany twisted her hands over her staff’s grip as she eavesdropped on the conversation - not that Fenris was trying to be quiet. “I know people like her are normal in Tevinter, but seeing this kind of… heinous cruelty and just…  _ evil _ , I can’t believe it.”

“For years I wondered how they could reject the Divine so utterly, but seeing this…” Sebastian shook his head and sighed. “I’ve spoken of this with Fenris and discussed it with the Grand Cleric at length.”

“Magic should serve what’s best in me. Not that which is most base. That’s what Father used to tell Marian and me.” She shuddered and looked away as Fenris ripped out the woman’s heart. The elf stormed out of the cave in a whirlwind of angry energy that tweaked the Veil thanks to the lyrium brands.

Garrett stared at Hadriana’s corpse for a few moments before rejoining his sister. “Don’t mind Fenris. He just needs some time alone. I’m going to make some discreet inquiries into this magister that his sister works for. Being noble has some perks, after all.”

 

\---

 

Marian clapped her hands together and gave a joyous shout. “Oh I just  _ love _ ambushes!”

Anders, his staff in hand and his stance defensive, growled and then said, “Now’s really not the time for that, love.”

“They don’t look like the Qunari from the encampment…” Carver said, his greatsword in his hands and held at the ready. He looked at his sister, but Marian was still smiling and hadn’t gone for the staff on her back.

Instead of the grievously injured work crew they’d expected, the warehouse was populated by three smaller Qunari (smaller than the Arishok - they still towered over Marian) and two elves and two humans that seemed to be on their side. The leader was a woman whose horns had glinting metal adornments and tightly braided hair. 

“Forgive the subterfuge, Marian Hawke.” The Qunari woman’s voice was a rich alto that rang in the warehouse.

“I see that wasn’t a question. To whom do I owe the pleasure of this lovely ambush?” She gave a mocking bow with enough arm waving to make her grandmother roll in her grave.

“I am Viddasala. We are of the Ben-Hassrath.” The Viddasala’s lips curved in just the barest smile before she gestured to the humans and elves. “These are ours, as well. Viddathari is the word for those of other races that seek the enlightenment of the Qun.”

“All of this, just to proselytize? I’m honored.” Marian grinned, her dark eyes blazings in the low light. Fire danced along her staff blade, though it still rested on her back.

“Your brother is basalit-an to the Arishok. I hope you will prove equally worthy.”

Carver opened his mouth to give the sharp retort written across his face, but he snapped it shut when Marian raised her hand in the hold motion. Marian took a few steps forward - closer to the Viddasala, further from her companions.

“Just what is it you want, Ben-Hassrath?” The words flowed naturally from Marian’s mouth, their complexity no match for the delicate magical incantations she’d memorized.

The Viddasala met her gaze with a blank expression. “You are known for having your fingers in every pie in this pathetic excuse for a city’s underworld. There is an object the Qun requires.”

Marian stood perfectly still, her idle sway dissipating as pieces fell into a place. Silently, she cursed Isabela and her mind began producing possible scenarios and lies. “I do keep in touch with Athenril. She’s rather good at acquiring objects. Just what are you looking for?”

“It is a mirror of elvhen make. About so-high. Extremely magical. The Qun requires it.”

_...Well, at least it’s not Isabela. _

 

\---

 

Marian sat straight with her posture perfect enough to make her mother weep, if she’d seen it, anyway. She sat at one end of a cracked, heavy, wooden table that had once been grand, with delicate mother of pearl inlays and shining varnish, but was now warped from water damage and slightly charred. Directly across from her sat Fenris, his white hair the brightest thing in the entire dilapidated mansion.

On either side of him were Aveline and Sebastian - his steadfast friends and allies to the cause of collaring mages. Not a group particularly welcoming to Marian, but that was the point. Carver and Garrett were off bickering in the main hall, completely unsupportive of big sister, but that was the point. She wanted something from Fenris, so the meeting had to be on his terms.

His glower didn’t ease up in the light, but Fenris eventually spoke. “Amell said you had questions about the Qunari.”

“What role is the Viddasala?”

Across the table, Fenris clenched his hands into fists, the metal of his gauntlets clinking in the stuffy air. “Where did you hear about the Viddasala?”

“I  _ met _ the Viddasala.”

Fenris leapt to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor. He yanked at his short hair and cursed in Tevene. “The Viddasala is one of the leaders of the Ben-Hassrath. Her job is to find and eradicate magic. As well as overseeing the conversion of Viddathari.” He broke into more curses and paced. “If the Viddasala is  _ here _ then this place is an even greater hive of decrepit, dangerous magics than I thought.”

“That all sounds very important, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s in the best interests of everyone in Kirkwall to give her what she wants, right?”

“She’ll burn Kirkwall to the ground to take it, otherwise.” After a moment, the elf muttered, “And good riddance, perhaps.” 

Marian nodded and stood. “I’ll, uh, do my best to figure out what she wants and get it for her.” She walked over to the door and picked up her staff, where she’d laid it against the doorframe in an attempt to not have her heart ripped out of her chest, but she stopped at the door. In a slow motion, she turned and pointed the blade, now alight with fire at Sebastian. “Don’t fuck my little sister.”

And  _ then  _ she left.

 

\---

 

“I can’t believe the Arishok is playing with people’s lives like this,” Bethany said as they moved quickly towards the back alley. The guards were already moving to prevent anyone else from entering, but the damage had clearly been done. “Using poisonous gas just to trick one dwarf? It’s madness!” 

“The people risked by the ploy aren’t Qunari. So to them, a victimless crime and a neat way to identify other conspirators,” Fenris countered. Not necessarily impressed, but not worried about the innocent Kirkwall citizenry either. 

“But it’s going to backfire. Fuel the anti-Qunari faction. They’ll say he did this on purpose,” Garrett stated, brow furrowed in worry. 

“Let’s deal with the threat now, and worry about the politics later,” Aveline chided all of them, marching forward into the alley. 

At first the group was able to close some of the barrels--each spouting a nasty-looking green smoke--without resistance, save the burn in their lungs and in the air. But then Bethany screamed and pointed behind him. Garrett whirled just in time to see the woman finish slitting her own throat and falling to the ground.   


“Maker!” 

“It poisons minds as well,” Fenris said grimly. “Usually causes aggression and… Ah, yes.” 

“Ah, yes,  _ what _ ?” 

“I believe that crowd is going to attack us. Like I said. Madness.” 

Garrett shouted a warning at the maddened people--Corterie thugs from their armor, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But they didn’t even seem to hear him. Grimly, he shouted for Bethany to stay behind them as he, Fenris and Aveline made short work of the mob. 

“There’s more.” Fenris gestured up the stairs, near the final barrel of poison.  
  
“No… She doesn’t look mad,” Garrett said, squinting at the elf woman.      

Aveline raised her shield. “She’s not going to look like much of anything if she’s the one behind this.”

 

\---

 

Fenris looked up from the scrap of paper he was practicing his letters on. Garrett stood in the threshold of his library and spent a few breaths just looking at the shelves of books. He spared Fenris a small smile, but it looked hollow.

Fenris resisted the twitch in his ears and looked back down at the page and his pitiful attempts at legibility. The scritch-scratch of a quilpen separated with the tink-tink of the nip on the ink pot were the only sounds for a time. Eventually, Fenris heard Garrett settle onto the divan, prompting the elf to speak up. “Your sister was here.”

“Bethany  _ does _ live here, you know.” Garrett scratched his beard and his eyes lingered on the dark fireplace.

“ _ Hawke _ was here.” Fenris’s grip on the pen tightened until it snapped from the force. He shook off the feathery remnants in disgust.

Garrett dropped his hands into his lap and sighed. “She’s still my sister, Fenris. My  _ twin _ . That doesn’t change just because she makes bad decisions.”

“She’s endangering you and everyone else in this blighted city.” He crumpled up the paper into a ball and threw it into the empty fireplace. “She cavorts around this place as if she isn’t a danger. She’s tangling with the Viddasala-”

“And I have a semi-regular appointment with the Arishok.”

“-she parades that  _ abomination _ and blood mage beneath the noses of the templars, causing more strife for those scant few mages that recognize and accept their inherent danger-”

“Enough.” Garrett’s voice wasn’t loud or angry, just firm. “I know, Fenris. Believe me, I  _ know _ . She’s wrong and she’s doing absolutely stupid, dangerous things. But none of that means I don’t love her.”

“Your heart is foolish.”

“Heh. Isn’t it?”

 

\---

 

Varric had expected shouting. He’d half-braced himself for a great magical row between Garrett and Marian, but, of course, it never came. He hadn’t  _ really _ expected it. When he wrote the book on the Amells and the Hawkes, he’d insist there was a fight. 

Adjectives and active verbs fluttered through his brain. Garrett’s voice breaking as he leveled a smite powerful enough to knock out mages all away in the Gallows. Bethany sobbing and begging them on her knees to stop. Marian looking like some chasind witch with blood dripping down her face as she held her staffblade at her twin’s neck. Carver bellowing until his voice failed him.

A big dramatic blowout that would shake Kirkwall’s very foundations. It was fitting. That’s just what  _ happened _ when the hero’s mother was murdered.

And no reader would be able to plough through the broken, stilted despair that enveloped all four children as they knelt around Leandra’s body. Two withered heroes silently clutching at each other, their faces as blank and unnerving as a porcelain doll’s. Their younger siblings openly, brokenly, sobbing.

No, the readers would get a fireworks show of shouting, of accusations. 

“This happened because  _ you _ support blood mages! You and your bloody mage rights agenda!”

“She was in  _ your _ care! I trusted you! Father trusted you! We all trusted you to protect Mother! You fail at everything you try!”

They’d storm off in opposite directions. Broody and Blondie would reassure them that they were better off. Bethany and Carver would lock eyes across the horrific dungeon, look sadly at each other and then follow their chosen sibling.

It would be something. Anything. Anything but four broken children silently falling to pieces around a patchwork corpse.

Shit.  _ Shit _ .

 

\---

 

“Who would have guessed? Another anti-Qunari plot, and our friendly neighborhood Reverend Mother at the bottom of it,” Garrett said, sighing as he trudged ahead through the alley.

“That’s how you know she’s up to no good. Nobody with decent intentions holds rallies in some obscure corner of Lowtown. This just smells evil.” Varric paused, wrinkling his nose. “Literally.” 

“I think you’re smelling the sewage,” Fenris said drily. 

“That, too.” 

“Let’s be careful. With Petrice, we’d be stupid to not expect a trap.” Garrett warned. And no sooner had he said it then they turned the corner into Ser Varnell’s rally.

“Are those… Qunari, chained? Explain yourself” he shouted, but Petrice, seeing him, had already pointed at the templar and turned to flee. “Or that...” 

“Ah, Serah Amell. The Qunari-lover. Does it pain you to see your friends in chains?” Varnell taunted, swaggering towards Garrett. Fenris growled, but Garrett waved him back. 

“Let’s try talking first.”  
  
“That never works,” Varric quipped.  
  
Garrett sighed and turned to the templar. “It’d be more accurate to say I’m a lover of Kirkwall not burning to the ground, Ser Varnell. You’ve seen the damage the Qunari can do without even intending to--the poison in the alley. Are we really prepared for all-out war?”

“They’re a blight on the Maker and must be destroyed!” Varnell shouted. He turned to the crowd behind him. “Kill the--”

The next sound was the  _ thump  _ as he hit the ground, unconscious. Garrett cracked his knuckles and raised his voice to the crowd in turn.

“I’ve just lost my mother. Trust me, none of you want to go through that. And it’ll happen to every single one of you if you push the Qunari too far. Leave this matter to the Chantry, your Viscount and the rest of us working for peace.” 

“But he was a templar!” 

“... The non-crazy elements of the Chantry,” Garrett amended. . 

More grumbles followed, but eventually the crowd dispersed. Varric frowned at the Qunari as the others loosed their chains. “Our horned friend won’t be happy about this.”

“Any attempt to conceal it would just make things worse,” Fenris said. “He’ll respect what we’ve done here today. As for what he thinks of your Chantry… The damage is already done.” 

“I just don’t want  _ my  _ city burning, Broody.”

“That’s beyond your control now, dwarf.” 

 

\---

 

“ _ Please _ , Hawke.” Merrill clutched Marian’s arm and there were tears in her eyes. Carver stood to the side, as far away as he could manage in their living room without leaving entirely. He fidgeted with his armor and tried not to get involved.

“Merrill, no. It’s too late. The Viddasala knows you have it and knows it’s here.” Marian rubbed her temples and winced as a thunderous crash sounded from the Lowtown street adjacent. 

“If I could just get the  _ arulin’holm _ , I could  _ fix _ it properly and-”

“And then give the Qun a working eluvian, so they could deconstruct it and destroy any others they find. Merrill. They  _ will _ get the eluvian. That’s not in question here. The only question is whether or not they destroy Kirkwall and Clan Sabrae to get it.”

Tears streamed down Merrill’s face. “You don’t understand, Hawke. I  _ have _ to! My entire life is restoring and preserving the old ways. I gave up everything for-” Her words were cut off as she let out a wracking sob. 

Carver winced and crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from crossing the room and wrapping Merrill in a hug. He gave Marian a pleading look, which his older sister ignored. Marian put her arm around the small elf’s shoulders. “I do understand. You sacrificed yourself to blood magic to restore it. What is one life against the knowledge? But this isn’t just your life, Merrill. It’s your entire clan. If you don’t give this up, there will be no one to give that knowledge to.”

Merrill sobbed and pressed her face into the soft leather of Marian’s breastplate. “You can’t ask this of me.”

“I swear to you, Merrill, we’ll find another eluvian. One that isn’t corrupted with Blight sickness. One that won’t cost the lives of your entire clan. You, me, Carver, even Anders. We’ll find one together.”

Merrill gave a wet laugh. “But Anders hates me!”

“He’ll get over it. We all have to make sacrifices.”

 

\---

 

The sheets under Marian  were soft and as decadent as any in the Amell manor Garrett and Bethany still lived in, now one mother too quiet, but still home, still a lifeline to the past. The air in her bedroom was cool and, for once, none of Lowtown’s noise filtered through her thick-paned window to disturb her, but Marian still couldn’t sleep.

Though, neither could Anders, whose arms were wrapped tightly around her waist and whose face was tucked into her neck. Every now and then, he would shudder and shiver, tightening his hold and making a strained sound. After one such shiver, he whispered, “Thank you. For… not letting Feynriel be made Tranquil.”

Marian stroked his arm. “He needed the help.”

Anders clutched her to the point of pain. “I… Don’t know what would happen if you were made Tranquil. Justice would- I- I’ve been blacking out more, Marian. He- I almost killed that girl. What if-”

“Shh…” Marian moved her hand and started running it through his hair, making calming noises. “I know it’s difficult, but you’re not alone. I’ll be with you. Through anything.”

A choked sound escaped Anders and his face was wet. “I don’t deserve you, love.”

“I’m sorry, but you need to promise me something. Swear to me that no matter what…” Marian’s breath shuddered and she couldn’t continue.

“Anything. Whatever it is, I swear it.”

“Anders-”

“I mean it.”

Marian shifted in his arms and rolled over to face him. Her hands slipped onto his cheeks and she pressed their foreheads together. “If- if I’m made Tranquil, you  _ must _ keep me alive.”

“Marian!”

She moved one hand over his mouth, shushing the rest of the protests welling up out of his now-stiff body. “You must. You saw Karl. For a moment, he was himself again. There has to be some way to reverse it permanently. I’d be in there somewhere. You have to give me the chance to come back.”

Fat tears welled in Anders’s eyes and he closed them, shaking his head. His body was tight with rejection and denial.

Marian’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Swear it.” She released her hand.

“What you’re asking-”

“I know.”

They stared at each other in the darkness and finally Anders sobbed and clutched her tightly against him. “I swear it. It may kill me, but I swear it.”

 

\---

 

“Serah Amell.” The Arishok’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the man… and the large book he held under one arm. “The Tome. You’ve had it the whole time? Professed to speak truth to me but concealed  _ that _ ?” 

Garrett stood firm in front of the half-circle of extremely angry Qunari. “I’ve made no attempt to deceive you, Arishok. Believe me when I say the appearance of the relic surprised me as much as you.” 

“The  _ appearance _ . You speak as if you had no part in it.”

“I didn’t. A pirate friend of my sister’s. It’s obvious now that she was the original thief. After your attack began, she found me. Gave the Tome to me.”

“And promptly ran off to avoid the consequences,” Aveline said under her breath.

“Knowing what the Qunari do to their prisoners. It’s difficult to blame her,” Fenris said with a shrug.

“It needn’t come to that.” Garrett appealed. The Arishok had said nothing, studying him with an inscrutable expression. “The Tome is rightfully yours, stolen unjustly. I’m returning it. Take it, and return to Par Vollen.” 

The Qunari leader grunted and waved for one of his men to take the relic. “A worthy gesture, Serah Amell. Too little and too late, but worthy. No. We will not be returning home.”

“No?” Garrett tensed, hand moving to the hilt of his broadsword.  _ Of course it wouldn’t be that easy _ .

“The thief. The pirate you spoke of. She has stolen from the Qun. She must be punished under the Qun.” 

“I don’t know where she is, Arishok. I tell you, she gave it to me and fled.”

“You allowed it.” 

“Yes. I’m returning what’s yours. Isabela is not yours.” 

The Arishok stood deliberately. “She will not escape punishment. I will burn your city to the ground if that’s what I must do to find her.” 

“I can’t let you do that.” Garrett drew his sword. Behind him, Aveline and her guard complement loosed their own weapons. 

Fenris interjected with a long string of Qunlat. The Arishok responded. Garrett watched as the Qunari all lowered their weapons, until only their leader stood armed.   


“Fenris… What did you do?” 

“I reminded the Arishok that in this matter of honor, a duel would be customary.”  
  
“Oh, you’re volunteering  _ me  _ to fight the big scary Qunari all by myself? Thanks, Fenris. Really appreciate that.” 

The elf cracked a smile. “You’re always going on about avoiding collateral damage. Do you really want the deaths of Aveline’s men on your conscience?” 

“Alright. But you’re saving me if he gets the upper hand. I’m not  _ that  _ honorable,” Garrett quipped, stepping forward to engage the Arishok.  

“He won’t.” 

 

\---

 

“It’s broken,” the Viddasala said, her voice all but dripping acid. Maybe there was a spell for that.

Marian leaned back in the uneven wooden chair the Qunari had provided. It was deliberately uncomfortable in at least four obvious ways and probably ten others she hadn’t figured out yet. “It was already broken. The Dalish you wanted it from has been fixing it. It used to be corrupted with the Blight - it infected two of her clan - so there’s that, at least.” She looked at her nails, uncovered by her fingerless gloves.

“This is a serious matter.”

“Yeah, and your Arishok is already burning down my city, so I’m not particularly inclined to help any more than I already have. You wanted the mirror; you got the mirror. I even brought all of the little pieces.” She tore off a ragged scrap of her nail and flicked it away.

The Viddasala approached her chair and loomed over the mage menacingly. “You  _ will _ fix this.”

“ _ I  _ don’t know how. The little Dalish chit was dealing with a demon to fix it and, really, I’m ready to let you kill your way through what’s left of Kirkwall before I resort to blood magic that might not even work.” She held up one finger. “And before you try to force me to make Merrill fix it, I’m just going to tell you that it’s not going to work. She’ll give herself over to the demon and let her abominable self destroy the city before she gives you a working eluvian.”

“The Ben-Hassrath has a way of bringing people around.”

“Except for that whole ‘she’s already made a pact with a demon’ thing. I don’t think the demon would take too kindly to reeducation. I think it’s a Pride demon, too. I don’t imagine it’d like the Qun.”

The Viddasala continued to stare at Marian, as if her gaze alone could change the circumstances. She thought the little black-haired mage’s justifications and excuses were legitimate, but just a little too convenient. The door behind her opened and a Tallis came in, reporting in sharp, quick and clear Qunlat.

The Viddasala turned back to Marian. “You have fulfilled your duty to the Qun. For now. Pray to your Maker we do not meet again, Serah Hawke.”

 

\---

 

They had known it was coming. The entire city knew. The souls of murdered slaves pressed close to the thinness of the Veil and moaned their complaints, demanded their revenge. The Fade was thick with demons of Fear and Despair. Even non-mages woke chilled in the height of summer when Despair licked and suckled at their dreams.

The end of days had heralded a renewed closeness between Marian and Garrett - or worsening relations. The flitted in the cellars, meeting in Hightown or Lowtown, always behind fiercely shut doors that crackled with magic and always leaving with enough tension to cut through the miasma of despair that seeped across the Veil.

The younger twins treated this as business as usual up until Garrett and Marian started making up excuses for them to leave the city - as if they would abandon their  _ family _ . 

So it was no one’s surprise when Meredith and Orsino clashed near the Chantry that Garrett and Marian would be standing at their respective shoulders. Anders stood at Marian’s other shoulder, calm and relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in at least a year. Garrett stared at the raggedy mage for a long moment as the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter argued. Then, he looked his twin in the eye and nodded.  
  
Carver noticed the gesture and froze, tension ripping through him like a knife. He grabbed his sister’s arm. “Marian-”

Anders interrupted him and pushed forward to stand between Meredith and Orsino. “The Grand Cleric cannot help you.”

Marian didn’t listen to the words. They didn’t matter, after all. She knew all of the words Justice had left Anders with, knew what little was left in his mind that was truly his to say, no matter how it’d been twisted. She drew her staff and stood with her chin held high, even as her lover glowed from the power of the spirit within.

Anders’s voice was low and crackled from the spirit within him. “There can be no turning back.” He turned to look up at the Chantry, even as Marian stepped in front of him.

Marian held her staff before her, tilted at an aggressive angle with the blade hovering just over the ground. “The time for peace is  _ gone _ ,” she spat out before Anders could. She felt him startle behind her, heard his sharp intake of breath as he realized her intent, but she ignored it. Marian turned her face towards the Chantry as well and held her chin high and proud as it exploded in a burst of blinding red light.

Sebastian fell to his knees, but Marian ignored her sister’s lover. She brought her entire presence to bear, magic crackling around her as she loomed over Meredith and Orsino by strength of will alone. “No more will you hide, snivelling behind the Chantry while the rest of the city suffers.”

“Marian, how  _ could _ you?” Bethany’s voice breaks, cracks, shatters and collapses, her arms wrapping around Sebastian’s shoulders, though neither is in any position to comfort the other.

Orsino rounded on his ally. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“She didn’t-”

“Be silent, Anders. I can take responsibility for my own actions.” She twirled her staff in her hands, the fire along its blade popping and snapping. “I did it because you failed us, Orsino. You sat idly by while this corrupted woman took the life out of our people and left empty husks behind to be her slaves.”

“Marian!” Anders cried out again, but Carver pulled him back, dragged him away with his gloved hand clasped over the man’s mouth.

“You’ve done enough damage, Magey. You started this, but she’s going to end. Going to clean up your mess like she always does, no matter the cost.”

Anders struggled against the tight hold, but without Justice bolstering him, it was wasted effort. He could do nothing but watch in horror as Meredith pulled herself up, presence nearly as oppressive as Marian’s, and invoked the Right of Annulment. His struggling redoubled when Garrett committed himself to Meredith’s side, but the younger man held firm.

When Orsino ran, Carver released Anders, who fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The young warrior said nothing, just signalled to his and his sister’s companions before they took off down the streets after Orsino.

Panting, Anders pulled himself to his feet. He staggered towards Marian, confessions of his guilt and not hers pouring from his mouth like water over a broken levy, but no one paid him any mind. “She had nothing to do with it! She didn’t even  _ know- _ ”

“I must prepare my people. She is your sister, Champion, I trust you will deal with her properly.” Meredith didn’t even look at Marian.

But Garrett spoke before Meredith could turn away. “No, Knight-Commander. I cannot mete out the punishment she deserves.” In that moment, time seemed to slow. Kirkwall fell silent in anticipation, though of what, none could say. The very air felt heavy and thick, waiting. “She can suffer nothing less than the Brand.”

Marian didn’t flinch at her twin’s words, didn’t lower her gaze, didn’t react, even as the world seemed to snap back into sound and action. Screams, the distant crash of damaged Hightown buildings crumbling from the explosion.

“Fitting. Come then.” Meredith grabbed Marian’s arm, gauntlets biting through the thin leather gloves. 

Anders howled with inhuman agony and his skin cracked, glowing fiercely blue. “ **You cannot have her** .” Infused with Justice, he grabbed for his lover. Before his hand could make contact, he was blasted blasted back with the force of two smites. One from the Knight-Commander and a second from Garrett. His limp body slumped heavily on the road, the electric blue Fade energy disappearing.

Though it had been aimed at Anders, Marian was caught in the wash of energy and slumped, held on her feet only by Meredith’s death grip. She groaned and tried to steady herself, but her body may as well have been a rag doll for all she could move. For an instant, fear painted her face, but when her eyes landed on Anders, the determination returned. She let Meredith drag her and didn’t look back.

  
  
  


\---

 

The day after the showdown at the Gallows, Garrett and Carver each had a letter from Marian to deliver.

 

_ Bethany, _

_ Don’t be mad at Garrett. I told him to have me made Tranquil. It’s the only way. I know it’s not fair to make you suffer through seeing me like this. I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t be angry with Garrett. Try not to do anything rash. _

_ I’ll see you again. I promise. _

_ Marian _

 

_ \--- _

 

_ Anders, _

_ I’m sorry it had to be this way. I don’t know what you have planned, but I know you don’t plan to survive it. That’s not fair. That’s not just. You don’t get to do something horrible and just die and not live with the consequences. _

_ You’re not giving anyone the choice of how to even attempt to stop you, so I’m taking  _ your _ choice away. I will take responsibility for whatever it is and then Garrett will have Meredith make me Tranquil. Whatever violence you have planned, it won’t be enough. We’re going to live in fear of the Brand until there’s a cure and there  _ is _ a cure. I saw Karl come back to himself for that moment after Justice took control. _

_ Maybe you, with Justice, are the only one who can cure it, but you’re so stuck in your own head, so desperate for vengeance that you can’t stop thinking about revenge long enough to heal. _

_ Now you have no choice. _

_ Now your fervor will be spent making things right. _

_ I know this is the cruelest thing I could have done to you. _

_ I wish you didn’t deserve it. _

_ M _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \o/
> 
> I was sorely tempted to just _stop_ after the Varric "All That Remains" scene. I mean, it stole the fuckin' show. I planned all along for Marian to be made Tranquil and for it to be her choice, but when it came to it, it really felt like it lacked the proper punch.
> 
> But then I had the Varric scene and I couldn't bring myself to get too upset about it.
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
